Dutch and Gina: The Power of Love (12 page)

“I love you, too,” she found the courage to reply.

FIVE

Dutch and Crader stepped onto the private elevator inside San Francisco’s Burk Hotel, after a long, hard slog of a day.
 
Crader handed him his cell phone.
 

“It’s Gina,” he said.

Dutch took the phone.
 
“Hello, my darling,” he said into the phone.

“Hi,” Gina said with a smile.
 
She was at her dressing table in their bedroom now, preparing for bed.
  

“How’s the boss?”

“He’s good.
 
He kept calling for you.
 
Daddy, daddy
, he kept saying.
 
He misses you.
 
Like mommy.”

Dutch smiled.
 
“I miss you, too.”

“So how did it go?”

“How all of these fundraisers go: wonderfully lousy.
 
What about you?
 
How did your day go?”

“It went okay.
 
Had a staff meeting and a few photo-ops with tourists, that sort of day.”
 
Then she hesitated.
 
“Robert Rand paid me a visit,” she said.

Dutch frowned.
 
“Robert?
 
Did he?”

“He did.”

“And why did he pay my wife a visit?”

Gina smiled.
 
He almost sounded jealous.
 
“He wants me to speak at his foundation’s dinner in Montreal.”

Dutch thought about it.
 
“I see.”

“You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“Generically, no.
 
The Rand Foundation does a lot of very impressive charitable work.
 
It’s a good organization.”

Gina wanted to tell him about the meeting with the Texas governor Robert was facilitating, and his Helm Amendment request, but now was definitely not the time for that.
 
She wanted Dutch home, in her arms, when she even discussed it.
 

“I miss you,” she said again.

“And back to you,” he said.
 

“Especially when I get in that bed and you aren’t going to be there.”

Dutch closed his eyes.
 
Gina’s sleek, naked body floated through his mind.
 
“Yes,” he said.
 
“That would be something to miss.”

Gina laughed.
 
“You are lousy at talking in code, you know that?”

He had to laugh at that one as the elevator stopped and the doors opened.
 
“I’ll get back with you later,” he said.
 

“Okay, babe,” she said with a smile, and the call ended.

Dutch handed the phone back to Crader.
 
“Get you some rest,” he said to his tired chief of staff just as Crader was about to get off of the elevator with Dutch.
 
Dutch was staying in the penthouse suite of the hotel.
 

“Sure you don’t need me for anything else?” Crader asked.

“I’m good.
 
Get you some rest,” Dutch ordered again and Crader, relieved, remained on the elevator.

Dutch greeted the secret service agents at the entrance of his hotel suite.
 
Then, as he was about to turn the knob, he remembered something.

“Is the young lady they brought to my room still here?” he asked the older of the two agents.

“Yes, sir,” the agent said.

Dutch nodded, he wasn’t really up to any of Liz’s dramatics tonight, but what could he do?
 
He wasn’t about to turn her out into the streets in the condition she was in.
 

He entered the room and closed the door.

LaLa came out of the movie theater feeling about as bad as she felt when she had gone into it.
 
She thought it would cheer her up, going to see the latest Tyler Perry release, but hearing the laughter and seeing the couples did nothing to help her mood.

She got into her SUV and made her way home. Robert had asked if she wanted to join him for dinner tonight, but she had easily declined.
 
He was okay, as far as it went, but she wasn’t interested.
 
Not in him.
 
There was something too underhanded about him for her taste.
 
Too shady.
 
Besides, he wasn’t interested in her, she had already concluded.
 
Except in that
you’re the First Lady’s best friend
disgusting way.
 

She put a Fantasia Barrino tape into the stereo, strummed her fingers on the steering wheel, and made her way home.
 
It was an overcast night, but DC, as usual, was alive.
 
It was an easy place to be surrounded by crowds of people while feeling deeply alone.
 
Tonight LaLa felt that way.

On her way home, however, she stopped through the drive-thru at McDonald’s, ordered a Big Mac, a large fry, a Chocolate Shake, and then went home.

She stepped into her Georgetown home with a sense of purpose.
 
She dropped her shoulder bag, kicked off her shoes, and sat her food on her small kitchen table.
  
It was medication, she knew, and it was quickly becoming addictive.
 
Eat away the pain.
 
Forget about the heartache.
 
Forget about the ten pounds she’d already lost.
  

But that wasn’t what this trip to McDonald’s felt like.
 
Instead of a reward for a job well done, it felt like punishment.

Her cell phone began ringing just as she had turned on the TV and sat down, opened up her Big Mac wrapping, and placed the big sandwich in her hands.
 
She looked at the Caller ID.
 
It was Crader.

“What’s up?” she asked into the phone as she sat the sandwich back on the wax paper and leaned back.

Crader was still at the Burk Hotel in San Francisco, lying across the bed.
 
“Nothing much,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Where were you? I called your house a few times, but you apparently were out.”

“I went to a movie.”

“Oh,” Crader said.
 
With which dude
, he wanted to ask.
 
Then he couldn’t resist.
 
“Who with?” he asked.

“I went alone.”

“Alone?
 
Enjoyed yourself?”

“Not really, no.”

“Boring?”

“No, it was really good.
 
Just so much laughter all around you.”

“Oh, yes, that terrible thing called laughter.
 
Who would want that?”

LaLa had to smile herself.
 
“How’s it going with you?”

“Going good.
 
The president is a money-raising machine and tonight was no exception.
 
The Democratic party is in good shape for the mid-terms.
 
Listen, La, when I get back in town I really want us to sit down somewhere, alone, and talk.
 
I mean really talk.
 
I mean not leaving the room until we finish our talk.
 
Can you at least allow me that much?”

LaLa didn’t know if it was a good idea or not.
 
She was just so over being hurt and disappointed and hopeful, only to be crushed again.
 
She felt entitled to the little pity party she was having right now.
 
“We’ll see,” was all she would commit to.

It wasn’t quite what Crader would have wanted, but it was better than no.
 
“I suppose that’s fair,” he said.
 

And then silence ensued.

“Dutch ordered me to get some rest,” he eventually said, “and I guess I’d better do as the man says.
  
We have another big day tomorrow.
  
So I’d better say goodnight.”

LaLa smiled.
 
“Goodnight, Crader.
 
And thanks for calling.”

This warmed Crader’s heart.
 
“Stay sweet, you hear?” he said.

She smiled, and killed the call.

She picked back up her Big Mac, looked at it again, and then dropped it on the paper altogether.
 
The thought of wearing that big sandwich on a body she was trying to whip into shape wasn’t something she cared to do.
 
She therefore wrapped it back up in the wax paper, and tossed the hold thing, with fries and shake too, in the waste basket.
 

Allison was still with Liz when Dutch walked into the suite.
 
Liz was sitting quietly on the sofa while Allison was seated in the chair texting on her Blackberry.
 
She stood up as soon as the president entered.
 

“May I be relieved, sir?” she asked as she stood to her feet.

Dutch smiled.
 
“Get out of here,” he said and Allison grinned.
 
But she kept on going.
 
She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Dutch could see that Liz was sober and freshly scrubbed now, although the anguish in her eyes was still there.
 
She was dressed in different clothes, a simple black dress Allison had apparently rounded up for her, and she looked more, if not entirely, like the Liz of old.
 

“You look better,” Dutch said honestly as he headed for the bar.

Liz smiled.
 
“I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?”

Dutch didn’t respond.
 
He poured himself a glass of wine, poured her a glass of juice, and then took a seat in the chair flanking the sofa.
 
Liz accepted the glass of juice, but didn’t sip from it.
 
She looked at the president instead.

“Thanks for not letting them toss me out,” she said.

“Why has it come to this?” he asked.

“Come to what?”

Dutch didn’t respond.